


On Top of the World

by parka_girl



Category: K-pop, Topp Dogg (Band), VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parka_girl/pseuds/parka_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miyeon (Rule 63!N) and Sangdo's paths cross during an audition. Miyeon passes, Sangdo does not, and then they meet again after two years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Top of the World

**Sangdo**  
She stands alone, near the back of the room, waiting. He can't stop staring at her, even though he's meant to be focusing on his music. Her hair, a brilliant red, falls just above her shoulders, making her skin seem to glow. He wants to reach out and touch her, but he doesn't even cross over and introduce himself. And not just because it's poor form to talk to people auditioning at the same time. But also because she's so beautiful he feels like getting to close will make him combust.

Her number is called and she strides through the group. Everyone turns, looking at her. They can't help it, Sangdo thinks. Her boots, nearly thigh high, click along the floor as she walks. They're black and the heels make her taller than everyone in the room. She knows, Sangdo thinks as she walks past him, how beautiful she is and she doesn't care. Or she's learned not to show it.

He wishes he could hear her voice, to know what she sounds like. But he can't. The door separating the waiting room from the stage prevents that. Instead, he waits. Not for her, because he's sure he won't see her again, except maybe on stage. And then he forgets about her because it's his turn.

His steps falter, his nerves getting the best of him. But somehow he pulls it together, singing his heart out because it's either this or he's enlisting and no more music. At least not professionally. But when he's finished, he already knows what they're going to say. He listens, though he's heard it all before. Instead, he lets his disappointment wash over him. A little more practice, they tell him, and he'll make it. Bullshit, he thinks but doesn't say. The tears are already prickling behind his eyes as he steps out into the hall.

The sunlight is bright and for a moment he's blinded. He digs into his pocket but he can already remember where he left his sunglasses, on his desk in his room at home. He scrunches up his face. The tears threaten and he makes it as far as the bus stop before he breaks down. He sits, ignoring the other people around him, with his head in his hands.

**Miyeon**  
She saw him, before her audition, trying not to watch her. She saw a lot of them, trying not to watch her. She'd long ago learned to tune it out. Her legs, her face, everything about her, brought her attention, no matter what she did. And when she was 16, she decided to just embrace it. She could kick all their asses, if need be. But her boots afforded her the intimidation so she never needed to.

But there was something about him that was different. He looked at her, not like he wanted to undress her, but like he wanted to get to know her. She wasn't sure how she could tell, but she was certain. She liked the way he looked, too. He slouched a little, his black hair styled in that artfully messy way she thought was both stupid and endearing. He was dressed up, too. A dress shirt, slacks and impressively shiny shoes. She imagined he couldn't be much younger than she was.

But before she could study him further, or devise a way for them to meet, her number was called. Her audition is good, better than good, and she knows it. They tell her that she'll be back for the next audition. She knew, though, before they said anything. She grins at them, walking out the door with a bit of swagger she knows they'll like. Sometimes, she thinks, she was lucky to be born a woman. If nothing else, they'll remember her.

She pulls her sunglasses out of her purse, sliding them on, and walks to the bus stop. She pulls a pair of sneakers out of her bag and exchanges them for her boots, then stands, the boots tucked under her arm. She has fifteen minutes until her bus. She leans against the bus shelter and waits, eyes half open. She watches some of her fellow singers walk past, some look happy, others less so. And then she sees him.

From the moment she sees him approach, she already knows he didn't make it. For some reason that makes her sad. She wants to say something, but she doesn't know how. And before she can, he's sitting on the empty seat, across the bus shelter from her, head in his hands. Oh, she wants to go comfort him. To run her fingers through his hair, to tell him everything will be all right.

But she doesn't. Instead she gets on the bus before him, sitting near the back. She watches the back of his head, until he gets up, at what must be his stop. He turns, just for a moment, and she catches his gaze. He stops, looking at her, she tries to smile. He tries to smile, too, but it doesn't reach his eyes. And before she can come up with something to say, he's climbing off the bus.

The bus starts to pull away and when she looks out the window, he's watching her.

**Sangdo**  
His two years in the military pass uneventfully. He keeps singing, but mostly when he's alone. He doesn't want to stop and his unit doesn't care. Sometimes they do karaoke and he blows their minds, but refuses to sing anywhere else. It still hurts and reminds him of the moment, on the bus.

When he gets out, the world's changed. He's 22, but he feels older. All his friends have lives, most of them putting off their enlistment in favor of music or school. But he'd given up, much to his friends' chagrin. He doesn't mind, really. He finds a school and enrolls in business. At least he can try to make some money, even if he doesn't like it. He sings sometimes, guesting on albums for his friends who rap. But most of his time he spends studying.

One afternoon a classmate invites him out to some show. He agrees, not even bothering to change after class. He goes in jeans and a t-shirt, nothing fancy. His classmates wear nicer clothes, but Sangdo can't be bothered to care. Instead, he just tags along because what else has he got to do with his time.

They go out for dinner and then to the club. The doors aren't open yet and the line stretches down the block. As they walk toward the end, Sangdo comes to a grinding halt. He thinks he's seeing things, it can't be her. But it is. She's talking animatedly to someone. He knows he should go catch up to his classmates, but he feels like he's rooted to the spot. Her friend taps her arm and he knows he's been spotted, but he can't move. When she turns, it's clear she recognizes him, too.

Her hair isn't red anymore, it's a silvery color, streaked with blue. It's shorter and she's wearing glasses, dark blue frames. They make her look even more attractive, he thinks. The boots are the same, the skirt is shorter, the shirt tighter. He's staring, he can't look away. He lifts his gaze and when he meets hers, he can see she remembers him. She leaves her friend and walks over to him. He wonders what to say, but he doesn't have to, because she's talking to him.

"Where did you go?" She says, as though she'd been waiting for him and he'd stood her up.

"I enlisted." He replies, before he can make himself ask her why she wanted to know.

She plays with a few strands of her hair, twisting them around her fingers. "Because you failed the audition?" Her voice is soft and people walk around them, ignoring that they've stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

"I failed one too many." He confesses. He could get lost in her eyes, he wants to get lost in her eyes.

She tilts her head to the side, watching him. He wants to kiss her.

**Miyeon**  
She hadn't expected to see him ever again. He was too pretty, she thought, to waste. But he'd disappeared and she'd almost put him out of her mind. And then, waiting in line for a singer she didn't even care about, there he was. He looked the same, only older and maybe a little worn down. His clothes fit better; his jeans riding on his hips just the way she liked. His t-shirt, a plain blue one almost the color of the streaks in her hair, fit him almost too well. His hair was still tousled, but this looked more like he'd been running his hands through his hair. She liked that, too.

Their conversation is weird, she doesn't know why she's acting like they know each other. Except that it thrills her when he plays along. And then she watches him, watching her. She can tell what's on his mind, if only because she wishes he'd lean in and kiss her already. But there are too many people and she doesn't even know his name.

"I passed, you know." She says.

He smiles at her, a surprised look that reaches his eyes. "Are you a superstar now?" He asks, his eyes almost twinkle. God, she loves it when he smiles.

She shakes her head. "Still a trainee."

He opens his mouth, then shuts it. She thinks she knows what he's thinking.

"I know, I'm too old, but I won't give up hope." It's a lie and for the first time she realizes this. She thinks he can see it on her face because he almost moves forward, as if to touch her, but stops at the last second. She finds that surprisingly appealing.

"I want to hear you sing." He says, clearly surprising himself.

She blushes, turning away. Her friend is watching her, as is their other friend. She doesn't want to be here. She turns back to the boy whose name she doesn't even know. He's watching her, she wonders if he wants to be here.

"Will you sing for me?" It isn't what she wants to ask, but it'll do.

It's his turn to blush, it lights up his face, making her stifle a smile. "Not here."

An invitation, of sorts. She knows a karaoke bar, nearby. "There's a place ..." She starts, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Nearby?" He completes her sentence.

"Do you want to go?" Is she asking him out? She's not sure. She doesn't care.

"Yes." He doesn't even hesitate and it makes her heart skip a beat.

She doesn't look back at his friends. She doesn't know if he came with anyone. Instead, she holds out her hand. He takes it and she pulls him through the crowd, away from the club. They're halfway to the bar when she realizes she's still holding his hand. She doesn't let go.

**Sangdo**  
"Miyeon." She says, suddenly. Her hand is warm in his, fingers curled around his own. She hasn't let go and he hasn't pulled away. He likes the way her hand fits in his. He likes that she's taller than he is. He likes everything about her.

"Sangdo." He answers. She smiles over at him.

They walk in silence, still holding hands. He's giddy, heart beating wildly. He can't think at all and he doesn't want to. He keeps sneaking glances at her and accidentally catching her watching him.

"I can't believe you remembered me." He says, finally.

They're stopped at a busy intersection. She looks over at him, a faint smile on her lips.

"You remembered me."

He swallows. Her red hair flashes through his mind. "You're unforgettable."

Her fingers tighten around his. "You are, too."

Silence again. And then her hand slides from him. She pulls the door open and he follows her into a brightly lit club. She greets the girl at the desk with a grin. They embrace and before Sangdo can process what's going on, they're being escorted to a room. The TV is on, but muted. There are several microphones on the table, but they're off. The door shuts behind the girl from the desk, leaving them alone.

Miyeon, he can call her by her name now, starts singing. Or humming, really. Her voice is beautiful, just as he expected. She sings two songs for him, neither of which he knows. But they move him, making his chest tighten. She walks over to him, sitting next to him, but not touching. He can't look at her. He closes his eyes, clearing his mind. And then he, too, sings. He sings her the song he sang at his audition and then another, a favorite.

When he's done, she's staring at him. He holds her gaze, unable to look away. He wants to lean in and kiss her. He wants to touch her. Her lips are parted, just slightly. He wants to reach out and touch them, to brush his fingers against them. He swallows, breathing suddenly hard.

**Miyeon**  
"If you kiss me, you can't call me noona." She whispers, her voice hoarse for some reason. Husky with something, desire she thinks. It's been almost six months since her last boyfriend.

His breath catches and she can see the exact moment he decides what to do. She shifts, leaning forward and his mouth finds hers without effort. She's not sure this was the reason she brought him here, it's not as though she hasn't made out with boys in this bar. But it was the only place she could think of that wasn't her flat. And she needed to hear him sing.

His fingers are against her face, stroking along her jaw. She shifts, sliding a hand up into his hair. It's just as soft as she'd hoped, expected. He's kissing her harder now, needy. She likes it, no, she loves it. It turns her on, making her shudder a little. She has to pull back, she doesn't want to sleep with him yet.

His mouth is swollen with their kisses and she knows she looks the same. She shifts, letting him wrap his arm around her. She likes the way it feels, like the way he feels. She closes her eyes, enjoying the feel of his fingers rubbing against the bare skin of her shoulder, where her sweater has fallen down, exposing skin.

"Miyeon?" His voice is soft, almost sexy. No, definitely sexy. She forces her eyes open.

"Yeah?"

"Can I buy you dinner?" That wasn't what she was expecting.

"What?"

He brushes her hair away from her eyes, making her knees weak. "For our next date." There's a grin spreading across his face and she finds herself laughing.

She shifts a little, tipping her head up and kissing him. Only sitting, she thinks, is he taller than she is. She thinks about how they walked to the bar, how he didn't seem to care that she was taller.

"Yes." She replies, because she was always going to tell him that.

She stands, pulling him up off the couch. She's taller than he is, but when he pulls her into his arms, she fits against him perfectly nonetheless. He tips his head up, finding her mouth with his. They kiss again, in the middle of the room, until the timer buzzes. Their time is up. She looks at him, giggles bubbling up out her.

"We've been in here for two hours." She half-whispers.

His hand is in hers, thumb against her knuckles. "That show must be over."

She kisses the corner of his mouth. "Walk me home?"

He nods. Without letting go of her hand, he gently guides her out of the bar. She doesn't even look at her friend, still at the front desk. Instead, she marvels at the way he lets her lead the way. She could get used to this, she wants to get used to this.

He stands outside her building, still holding her hand. She leans in and he kisses her. She kisses him back. "Take me out tomorrow." She whispers against his mouth.

He kisses her again, a little bit harder. "Dinner." His voice is full of smiles and she feels light for the first time in ages.


End file.
